But the Fire is Coming
by DronesHappyAsWeAre
Summary: Episodic story in which the closeness and emotional codependency between Miles and Charlie escalates beyond conventional propriety. Adventure and story act as catalysts for their relationship. (WARNING: [Emotionally drawn out] INCEST)
1. In the Dark

**Chapter 1:** _"In The Dark"_

A/N:

Begins before episode 1x09, specifically just before they reach Nora's Rebellion contacts outside Philadelphia.

**WARNING:** DRAWN OUT, AS-EMOTIONALLY-REALISTIC-AS-I-CAN-GET-IT, INCEST.

Episodic story (in planning phase until 1x10 is out) concerning a growing closeness and emotional codependency between Charlie and Miles which will evolve past the point of conventional propriety. Action, adventure, and story will act as catalysts for their relationship.

(Also, the title is punny phrase derived from Daughter's song "Run" which fits very nicely with the tone of Miles and Charlie's potential romantic relationship [in my opinion, of course])

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"What is she to you?" The nozzle of the aged gun prodded the soft underside of his jaw. The metal pained him as he swallowed, despite his dry mouth, before speaking.

"My brother's kid." He answered.

"No." The man rejected. "What _is_ she to you?" The gun left his jaw. Its new target was Charlie's heart. The gun cocked.

Miles had been fine until that moment.

_~ 20 hour earlier ~_

Charlie squinted her eyes, looking towards the low hanging sun. Miles, Nora, and Aaron hadn't said much for the whole day. The closer the got to Philly the more Charlie could feel the tension coming off of each of them, including herself, but none so much as Miles. For a man as stoic as he was, he was sometimes easy to read - at least for Charlie. She didn't know if it was because he was family or because she simply spent more time watching him than anyone else. Both were probably true.

As she stared towards the sun and the back-lit forest on the horizon she finally realized they'd been moving west for a few miles already even though Philly was south. If she hadn't been so distracted by her thoughts of Philadelphia she might have noticed sooner than they were walking away from it.

She jogged a few paces to Miles who was walking in the front.

"I thought Nora said she knew a rebellion group right outside the base that could help get us in."

He looked over to Charlie for only a moment before speaking in that weary tone that made him sound, probably purposefully, as if he'd preferred the silence.

"Well, we don't know if they're gonna be that helpful," Miles gave Nora a terse glance she returned, "but getting into Philly is one thing, getting out is the trick." He looked back ahead of them, his eyes surveying the simple landscape. "After we get to Danny they aren't exactly gonna open the doors for us."

Charlie looked away from Miles, searching her feet for a few seconds as she was reminded of the dangers they faced. She accepted them, again, the moment she turned back to him asking, "So where are we going?"

He spoke only after the group's footsteps had taken over the silence for a few seconds.

"To see an old friend..." He replied. Charlie immediately felt a certain amount of suspicion; a feeling that was outwardly shared by Aaron who spoke up quickly.

"This isn't another friend from your Militia days is it?" He huffed a little as he caught up as well. "Because I wasn't a fan of your last war-time buddy."

Miles was quiet for another moment, leaving everyone to suspect the worst."The last time I saw him I was Militia... but we didn't exactly see eye to eye."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nora asked seriously as if she hadn't heard this part before.

"So we're going to go see a guy you pissed off when you were General?" Aaron asked for clarification.

Charlie only looked at Miles' profile worriedly.

"'The enemy of my enemy…,' right?" Miles reasoned with a small amount of wistful shame in his voice. That comment quieted everyone. "Besides," he picked up, "last time I left him, he was alive – he survived me." The shame was a little stronger in his voice; he turned away from Charlie's stare, as if something to his left was more important. "He should be able to help us."

"… Let's just hope that he will." Nora added flatly, speaking for Aaron and Charlie as well.

Charlie hanged back until they made camp, thinking non-stop and speaking every so often. Her eyes never strayed far from Miles' back. He was, visibly, the same. The same world-weary stride and the same old pack swaying over one shoulder. But something about this seemed strange to her.

_~ 4 hours later ~_

Charlie rolled under her covers, looking across the small fire to Nora and Aaron. They were both sleeping, Nora with her knife half tucked under her bag which served as a makeshift pillow and Aaron facing the warmth of the little flame. She could feel the cold bite her nose and cheeks. The fire couldn't afford to be any brighter and make their camp too conspicuous. She'd gotten used to this kind of cold in her childhood, though. She glanced toward her feet to where Miles would be. He was still awake, keeping a lookout, but she knew he wouldn't be sleeping even if they were hundreds of miles from Philadelphia. Just as she had all day, she could tell something about him was off tonight. If any part of Miles was obvious it was that never liked being obvious. He never voluntarily showed how he felt, especially when he was nervous, but she could feel the uneasiness from him all day.

That was more than enough to worry her to the point of intervention.

Without a second thought she peeled her covers off, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake the others and lose the opportunity. Talking to Miles was a battle any day, but a day like this was worse, especially with Nora and Aaron even less patient with him lately.

The moment she'd started moving she could see him glance at her. He was leaning against the trunk of a branch-heavy tree too far from the fire to be lit. She wouldn't have been able to see his eyes on her if the moon hadn't been nearly full.

As quietly as the brushing of her clothes against her coarse covers and the crunches of vegetation under her boots allowed she made her way to his side. He made no movement and predictably didn't acknowledge her existence after the glance he'd paid her previously.

But he hadn't already told her to go back to sleep, so that meant something, right?

She sat down only a few feet from him, a bold distance between anyone and Miles. She hugged her knees loosely for warmth.

Sitting next to him quietly for a minute, she let the moments settle with the silence of the quiet wind and the little fire and their breathing. She remained quiet for only a few seconds longer, trying not to push a conversation against the brick wall that was Miles Matheson.

"Miles," she started quietly, "what happened here?" She wasn't going to beat around the bush all night, though.

"... It's a long story, Charlie." His tone sounded as if they'd already been talking for several minutes – she guessed, in his mind, through their silent moments they might have been.

She wasn't fazed.

"If you think he's going to help us get Danny back, I've got all night."

The fire sparked for a moment with a crack, putting the exclamation point on her words she couldn't with Nora and Aaron sleeping a few feet away. He turned to her, looking at her like he rarely did. It took a lot to get Miles Matheson to look at you like this. Usually he shrugged everyone and everything off even when they were important to him, despite what he was really feeling. If he ever looked at you it was for only a moment till the scenery was more interesting again; he only ever turned off his cool and distant image if things got serious or if you surprised him. Charlie knew, though, that it was easier for her than for anyone else she knew to get him to look at her like this. That didn't mean she didn't enjoy it every time she could earn his undivided attention like this. With his brow furrowed and a tired half-sigh he stared at her for nearly a minute before looking away and talking again.

"Last time I came through here all this was ash."

Charlie looked around. Only then did she realize that most of the trees were shorter than average and that there were only a few with blackened trunks looking any thicker than ten years – like the one he was leaning against now. She looked back to him when he spoke again, "At least it was ash by the time I'd gone." He looked around, "All because I couldn't get what I wanted."

She had to take a moment. She'd heard stories and seen his face as he described the things he'd done, but physical evidence was always stronger.

She took a breath.

"That was years ago..." She had no choice but to accept everything she heard about Miles' past, even if he didn't explain it all, but even so she felt it was wrong of him to treat himself as if he was the same man who did all of it. He was here now, helping her, and fighting against the Militia – he wasn't the same man anymore.

"Yeah, well, not for me and probably not for Burt Coleman."

"Is that the man we're going to go see?"

Miles paused, "His place is only a few miles off the path from here. Even though it's so close to Philly, his place should still be a secret. I never told Monroe about him, and even if I did it would be a suicide mission if the Militia tried to confront him again."

"Miles, what is it that we need from him?" Curiosity and the need to stay informed were too strong for Charlie not to ask.

"A distraction." He said simply, dodging her actual question.

Charlie shifted in her seat of dead leaves a little, her booted feet clumsily trying to find friction on the dewy ground, and readying herself to ask more questions. Her questions, however. were quickly forgotten when he turned to her, "Charlie."

He was looking at her the way he rarely did again. It was all she could do to stare back.

"Charlie, when it gets down to it tomorrow," he started, "I want you to stay out of sight."

Her expression flickered into one of confusion. "Miles?"

"Hide or stay behind, I just need you stay out of it." He answered her quickly.

If she hadn't known him better his curt tone would have been easy to mistake for impatience or even scolding, but she knew that was how he sounded when he was worried. A part of her, in spite of herself, liked it whenever he worried. Far from her community and after getting caught up in everything they have, to have someone like Miles worry about her like this was... nice.

She knew he was still keeping a lot from her, but that wasn't new.

"Is he really that dangerous?" She asked.

"He used to be a good man, but I might have changed that." And like that the sky stole his stare from her. "Go get some rest." He finished the conversation.

Any other night she might have bugged him for more information or for less orders, but not tonight. Of course, she wouldn't blindly follow his instructions, either. She might not want to know what exactly happened here or how dangerous this man, Burt Coleman, could be, but she'd rather find out than let Miles walk into enemy fire because he thinks he deserves to handle all this alone.

'Getting rest' wasn't as simple as Miles had made it sound, though. She found herself waking up every few hours, never forgetting to check on Miles before closing her eyes again. She wasn't sure whether he'd slept at all that night.

Although it was comforting to know he was worried, it wasn't until noon the following day did she realize what exactly had been keeping him up all night and why, exactly, he'd told her to stay behind.

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More soon!

Reviews are welcome!


	2. Now I Know I Picked the Right One

**Chapter 2:** _"Now I Know I Picked the Right One"_

**A/N: **

Short, but I'm planning on updating on a semi-regularly basis.

And thank you so much for all the reviews, they're great motivators! I probably wouldn't have been as jazzed to write more so quickly without them!

It's also wonderful to see this ship isn't as avoided as I thought it was!

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"Every good man has something in his life he needs more than anything else - something to build his worth on." Coleman explained, his gaze lost in the distance just before looking over to Miles, his eyes suddenly as clear as a hawk's, "Something worth dying for."

_~ earlier that day ~_

"Miles, we shouldn't be here. We should be going around the grove." Nora said quietly as they approached the naturally camouflaged gate. It must have been 20 feet tall and was completely covered in vegetation. The peak of the wall was the perfect crow's nest for a single guard to see intruders from half a mile off. It was their luck that the one guard was perched and armed that moment. She pointed towards a slope in the woods where one or two people at a time could hide along in order to get close to the gate without too much risk of being seen by the single watchman. "But I don't think we should even be here at all." She added for clarification.

Miles ignored her. If they left it'd all be for nothing. He had to try this. He might get shot for it, but he'd faced worse chances with less responsibility hundreds of times.

"It's better we don't try and surprise him." He reasoned vaguely. Charlie could see Nora still wasn't convinced. No one was.

Charlie, Nora, and Aaron walked behind him, despite their strong opinions, as he made his way closer to the gate. They paused just before they were to break free from the cover of trees and into the dirt plane which separated the overgrown wildlife of the old manor farmhouse from the woods behind them.

The four of them eyed the single man seated on the wall. The shadowy shape of a rifle rested against his elevated, shielded lawn chair. The man was sitting too still. Charlie could tell, just as Miles and Nora probably could, that, whoever he was, he knew they were there.

"I know it's one guy, but this doesn't seem safe." Aaron spoke up, only a touch of nervousness in his tone.

"If we turn back we don't stand a chance in Philadelphia," Miles answered with just as much enthusiasm as he said anything else. "You two, follow me. Just let me handle this." He took a step out from under the shade before pausing again as he squinted and looked around, but not back. "This is where we split, Charlie."

"Wait, what?" Aaron did a double-take as Nora stared at Miles with more sternness than confusion. "You're not coming with us?"

"No." Charlie answered Aaron shortly, taking a note from Miles for a moment, but kindly. "But if you need me…." She offered by trailing off.

"Don't count on it, kid." He started walking again, dirt crunching under his boots.

She had almost heard a touch of humor in his voice when he said that – that swaggering humor he had sometimes that made things seem a little less dangerous for a moment. With some hesitancy and confusion both Aaron and Nora left her there, under cover, and went out with Miles.

Charlie was already regretting not fighting harder to stay with them when she noticed just how quiet things were where she was. Nothing but birdsongs and the wind. She wanted to hear what was going to happen. She wanted to be there with them, with him.

Whatever had happened with this man all those years ago was obviously bothering Miles, and more than usual, too. She still couldn't think it was a good thing, leaving him .

Walking up to the gate Miles kept his focus on the man in the chair. He could feel him staring right back. Miles walked as far as he could until a voice from the chair rang out.

"Hold it."

Miles stopped, as did Nora and Aaron. He could hear Aaron shuffle a little nervously as the seated figure stood up, the rifle expertly perched against the figure's shoulder as it aimed at them.

"Hands up, bags on the ground."

Miles dropped his bag and raised his arms, an attitude clear on his face. He heard two bags drop behind him. "Miles." Nora called out warningly.

"State your business." The voice shouted from behind the rifle.

"Aid." Miles called out just as loudly.

"None of you look dying." The man appraised apathetically.

"No, we don't need medicine," Miles answered. "We need… supplies."

The rifle shifted a little in the figure's grip. A pause between them spanned for only a moment before the voice picked up again. "And what kind of supplies does the great General Miles Matheson want from me?"

It hadn't taken Charlie more than three minutes to decide she was going to break Miles' order. She wasn't planning on getting too close, just close enough to see and hear what was happening. She'd stay out of sight, but just within earshot. Miles couldn't have anything against that.

She'd been just about halfway through the grove before she heard voices pick up. By the time she got to an angle where she could see Miles and the other she could see their arms up. She wasn't surprised, but her heart missed a beat nervously as she maneuvered her way through the brush quicker.

Things were quiet for a moment. He could feel Aaron and Nora staring at him. He closed his eyes slowly for a moment before speaking up, "Former… General."

"Oh, so I guess that means all sins are forgiven." The man replied sarcastically, unaffected by the news he probably hadn't heard being cooped up in the same spot all these years. The man carried on with some advice, "Look, if you don't wanna get shot I advise you turn around and forget this place like you shoulda done last time."

There was quiet for a few seconds while Miles thought. A few bugs chirped from the wall's direction and silent anxiety built from within the scene.

"Look, Coleman-" Miles' contemplated words were interrupted by the muffled but unmistakable sound of a rifle cocking.

"Miles, we need to get out of here, now." Nora called to him seriously.

"Yeah, this really isn't going well." Aaron spoke up anxiously.

Miles might as well have heard neither of them, he didn't move, he didn't look away from the man on the wall. His stubbornness was clear to anyone, especially to Coleman.

"You've got three seconds before I rid the world of a so-called retired dictator." Coleman yelled.

Miles stood his ground while Nora and Aaron were already reaching for their bags. He stood there, his hands still up, waiting.

"Three!"

A gunshot rang out. Everyone jumped, but Miles only flinched. A little puff of dust had erupted just 4 feet in front of where Miles was standing. It dissipated in the breeze. The rifle cocked again.

"Miles!" Nora yelled for him, reaching to him without actually getting close enough to touch him.

"You two get outta here." He called back as he actually took a step forward.

"Two!" Another deafening crack of gunfire shook everyone, another little cloud of dust exploded just 2 feet from Miles.

"What are you doing?! This guy isn't joking, Miles!" Aaron yelled. Both he and Nora were ready to make a run for it, but they couldn't leave Miles.

"Get outta of here!" Miles yelled for the first time, only turning his head to his right a fraction so they could see his profile. "If you're gonna shoot me, shoot me, Coleman!" He yelled ahead of him without thinking, or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing. He barely knew which was more true.

"Miles!" A voice he hadn't expected screamed his name. For a fraction of a second he forgot everything but that voice, as if he'd been woken up from a dream. His arms dropped and he turned to the sound of his name, looking.

He could barely focus his eyes on a flash of blond hair before he understood and turned back to Coleman, ready to forget the whole thing and leave his ground. But it was at that same exact second when his time was up. He saw Coleman aiming right at him. Miles looked back to her, raising his hand, she was running to him. "Charlie!"  
"One!"

Everyone flinched, waiting for the next crack. It never came. It was only after he realized the gunshot hadn't happened when he felt the pressure against his chest. For a moment he thought he'd actually been shot despite the silence. But when he tried to look down to check the damage his chin bumped against a familiar figure. She was facing Coleman, her back to him, shielding him.

The next person to talk was Coleman, but only after a few more seconds of silence. "Who is this to you?"

"No one." Miles came to his sense quickly, clearing his throat and pushing her away from him, walking a step in front of her. "Just some stupid kid." He bluffed, overcompensating. He nearly grimaced at the obvious lie in his tone.

"A demon never tells the truth, but that's a fib if I ever heard one." Coleman announced. Miles wasn't really listening. He was already turned to Charlie, his expression hard.

"You're not supposed to be here." He whispered hoarsely. "You should have stayed away."

"If I had you'd be dead." She replied dramatically. He wanted to sigh and answer back, but it wasn't the time for that. Coleman's voice was the next one to speak.

"If she's just a stupid kid why don't I just shoot her now?" His rifle found a less committed place on his shoulder again. Miles could tell he wasn't seriously going to shoot this time, but it didn't stop his chest from tightening at the thought. "What should keep me from blowing her pretty head off?"

Miles' breath hitched before talking again, his voice just slightly weaker than normal.

"That's not who you are, Burt." Miles took another step in front of Charlie, keeping his arm out protectively. He knew she couldn't afford to be so obvious, but he couldn't afford Charlie getting herself killed over him.

"No, but it _is_ who you are. Or did you forget, Matheson?" Coleman asked. "I sure as hell didn't."

Miles paused for a moment. Bad memories came back with that comment. He took a breath and looked back to the others, checking on Nora and Aaron. They were staring unblinkingly at the scene. Nora was visibly angry while Aaron looked like the person who wanted to be here the least, his gaze checking on Charlie every other second. Miles, himself, made a point of not looking at Charlie. He didn't need to see her staring up at him with that look of hers to help him feel any worse about the situation. Or even worse that Charlie would be here for whatever was to come.

Miles turned back to Coleman reluctantly. "Look, I came here to talk."

At that Coleman dropped his rifle from his shoulder, and stared at the group for a moment.

"I can talk, Matheson. I can talk all damn day." The man said casually, turning to his left and starting down a series of metal steps just visible through a chain-link patch of the gate. "It'd take days telling your little followers your transgressions – and that's only was I've heard," he shouted through the gate just loud enough to be heard. "But not here." He yelled lastly.

At that a small metal door in the wall that had been nearly invisible before opened. "Get inside. Leave your stuff out here."

Miles turned back to everyone just before he started towards the door. He could hear the footsteps behind him start walking, too.

"Not all of you – just Matheson." Burt corrected quickly, before adding, "… and the kid."

Miles didn't waste a moment before he objected, "No, leave her out of this."

Burt Coleman, a graying man of relatively short stature, thick build, and Southern fashion, smiled a jagged grin before speaking up again, "Now I know I picked the right one." The smile disappeared as quickly as it had shown itself, "Now, get in."

Miles looked to Charlie, getting the look he knew he would. He knew he deserved it, too.

"Charlie," he said quietly, "Stay by me."

She nodded and lingered closer to him than before. He found some security in that, but he was nowhere near as confident as he would have been walking through that door by himself or with anyone else.

If anything happened to Charlie because of him….

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More soon!

And the fall finale is tonight, I can't wait to see what happens!

(Reviews are welcomes, of course!)


	3. Yeah, I think we actually might

**Chapter 3**: _"Yeah, I think we actually might..."_

**A/N:**

Longer chapter - conclusion to confrontation of Burt Coleman.

Thanks to everyone for reviewing and following and favoriting, thank you so much! I'm loving all the feedback!

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"Don't get any ideas about running off." Coleman warned as they made their way through the barren yard between the gate that had just been locked behind them and the run-down, scorched, farmhouse in front of them that looked as if it shouldn't still be standing. "This whole place is rigged."

Charlie, momentarily confused by that, nearly glanced behind her at the stout man pointing the rifle at their backs, but instead found herself distracted by Miles. He'd been looking at her already. She stared back, her lips tensing slightly to acknowledge him. He didn't do anything but keep looking at her, as if warning her. She couldn't decide whether or not how seriously he was taking this was a good sign or a bad one, but she didn't break the eye contact for a long moment. She wouldn't be able to decide before Coleman spoke up again, "You can't rig a building like you used to, but you're being held at gunpoint by the Rube Goldberg of Demolition," Coleman announced with nearly theatrical pride, Charlie could almost feel Miles' irritation grow at that, "So you better not use the second step or the whole place'll go up."

She hadn't noticed till then that they'd reached the porch steps. She hesitated before lifting her boot clearly over the second step, looking at it for a second longer, realizing it didn't look as old or rundown as the others.

Miles opened the door for Charlie, only letting his eyes off her to give a glare at Coleman who only nudged his gun forward to motion Miles inside the house, too.

"Now," Burt projected just as the screen door snapped shut behind them, "to start this off, I'm going to ask you a simple question."

He walked them into the living room. Charlie and Miles were facing each other with just about six feet between them. The room was littered with large spindles of cord, dozens of canisters, garbage, and nearly every surface had dark gray smudges coating it. If Charlie hadn't been so focused on what was more important she might have noticed the aged decorative figurines and picture frames beneath the garbage and sinew that had once been picked off the shelves of local retail shops now flooded and overgrown. But none of them were so focused on any of the details, not when Coleman motioned them to sit down.

Sitting awkwardly in a ragged La-Z-Boy Charlie kept her eyes on Miles who resigned himself to a seat on a kitchen stool.

"It's a simple question, so I expect simple answer," he prepared, lowering his rifle for one hopeful moment before pulling out a handgun from his belt, "That means no smooth-talk."

A moment came and went, with a glance from Charlie to Miles Coleman raised the gun in his hand.

"What is she to you?" The nozzle of the aged gun prodded the soft underside of his jaw. The metal pained him as he swallowed, despite his dry mouth, before speaking.

"My brother's kid." He answered.

"No." The man rejected. "What is she to you?" The gun left his jaw. Its new target was Charlie's heart. The gun cocked.

Miles had been fine until that moment.

He was standing before he knew it. He saw Charlie's eyes widen, looking from the gun to him, and he felt the fear come off her. She didn't move, though. The kid might've been scared, but she stood her ground like she always did.

"There's a reaction, sure, but…" Coleman judged as the point of his gun raised a few inches for emphasis on what he was about to say, "What could a man like you possibly feel for another human being?"

Another question. Another one Miles couldn't answer.

He couldn't understand what he wanted to hear.

Charlie was his niece – a pain in the ass. A kid who came into his life, demanding he dig up everything he worked so hard to forget and already 15 years too late to get to know the uncle -the man- she remembered and wanted.  
Even so, he couldn't help but notice, begrudgingly, that if that was all she was to him his heart wouldn't be beating twice as hard with the gun pointed at her than it had been when he'd been the target.

As if the confusion on his face was clear enough, Coleman spoke again, really loving the sound of his voice, "You see, the question I'm really asking here, Matheson, is whether or not if you're worth your breath."

That was an answer Miles knew the answer to.

It wouldn't be one he should say, though. Not if he wanted to live through this. Miles could tell from the look in the man's eyes that Coleman was actually waiting for some kind of permission to squeeze the trigger at either of them. That permission was either the wrong answer or the wrong action, but whatever it was neither of them had done it yet and Miles needed to keep it that way.  
Miles knew he had Charlie to thank for whatever amount of doubt she'd given Coleman that was keeping the bullets in that gun – but if they lived he knew he wouldn't thank her the way he should not when she was stupid enough to risk her life for him.

Coleman's mind was on a similar train of thought.

"You see, a murderer… wait, a _mass_ murderer you may be, but…" Miles' expression hardened at that correction, and yet he had no instinct to deny it. Remembering the faces of the people he killed, himself or through others, was enough to keep him quiet, especially the thought that there were more than enough faces he'd never seen as well. "But… _this_ girl _cares_ about you… a lot." Coleman explained, his voice full of genuine wonder. Miles glanced at Charlie for a moment, carefully keeping his face as motionless as stone.

He knew it was true. It was obvious. Somehow this girl had learned to care for him.  
When they'd met again after the blackout she needed his help, but she didn't even like him, and now...

Even in that moment, she was looking up at him the way she'd done since a few weeks after they started this suicidal journey, the way she'd been the only one who could: like he was some kind of goddamn hero.  
He'd told himself enough times that he wasn't what she thought he was, but that didn't stop her from being the only person in the last decade to look at him with that expression of complete trust. It pissed him off sometimes, like now, it could wear him out for the rest of the day, but in tougher times it was all that got him through the next moment.  
Charlie didn't know that and he thought it was better that way.

"This girl… a young, pretty, impressionable thing like her..." Miles' attention was brought back by his distaste for Burt's choice of words, "… and she was willing to take a bullet for _you_...? Where did that come from?"

Miles couldn't look at Charlie for a moment, but that didn't stop her from staring at him with those big blue eyes that never quit, of course. He tried to ignore it.

"… I have no idea." In a tired voice Miles told what he believed was the truth.

"Fair enough," Coleman gave him, "I can't understand it either, but… would you do the same?"  
The gun switched over to him now and the relief of tension in his chest was uncomfortably obvious to him.

Miles didn't answer, though. He knew his answer, and an instinct deeper than regret told him it was better not to say.

Coleman shook his head roughly at that moment of quiet and swung his aim back to Charlie, pressing the gun directly against the base of her neck forcefully, she let out a groan of either pain or fear if not anger. Miles didn't notice how little control he had over himself in that moment until he was already grabbing Coleman's shoulder and pulling him away from Charlie with all his strength, risking more than his own life in the process.  
It wasn't a second until he felt the butt of the gun drive against the side of his head, not hard enough to knock him out, but not gentle enough to spare him any blinding pain.  
"Miles!" Charlie called, standing up as well. Miles felt her hands land protectively on the back of his shoulders as he stood up straight again. He managed to shrug one of her hands off, but one still lingered on the shoulder closest to her. He took a step in front of her, protectively.

"I guess that answers my question."

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"It's so quiet…what's going on in there?" Aaron tried looking through holes in the meshed-metal gate. "How could Miles let it get like this?" He turned back to Nora, exasperated, letting his hands rise and fall against his sides in disappointment.

Nora stared at the gate from several feet away, "He hasn't been himself for a couple days."

"What do you thinks been up with him?" Aaron asked, walking over to Nora's side, stressed.

She answered as she continued to search for weak points, "I don't know. He doesn't talk to me." Aaron could hear the disappointment in her voice, but it was a very different type of disappointment from his own. "He doesn't talk to anyone, but…" she continued after a pause, "it can't be easy getting this close to Philly and being reminded of what he's done."

"Yeah, but, isn't that just who he is?" Aaron asked with something like humor. "He's always brooding over his Militia days… which is good, I guess, but he's getting really bad. What's so different now?"

Nora looked at Aaron at that, thinking hard for only a moment, "Maybe he's starting to care more…."

"Why would he care now?" Aaron asked rhetorically. He gave her a confused look before sighing and shaking his head tiredly, she tried to forget those thoughts quickly.

"Come on, help me find a way in." She still hadn't found a weak spot, but she didn't see any good in thinking about Miles' famous self-destructive tendencies… tendencies she knew from experience only got this dangerous whenever he was feeling something besides his usual surliness and regret – something much more.

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"So now that I know what she means to you, what should I do?" Coleman reached over and gripped Charlie by the arm. He pulled her over to the stool and Miles couldn't help but miss the light pressure of her hand on his shoulder. It took everything to keep himself from reacting defensively when Burt pushed her onto the stool. "How about a trip down memory lane?"

"Don't-"Miles tried to object but was cut off.

"So, here we were, what, a decade ago?" He checked with Miles with an insincere air of nostalgia. "I was finally settling down with my family, having found my own corner in the new Dark Age, and one particularly stormy night in fall the Militia come knocking on my door." Coleman became more animated with his story, as if telling it to a group of children, "Even though they – this man right here, actually – had agreed to leave us in peace in exchange for most of our crops I still heard that night, at my door, 'Open up, Militia business!'" At this point Charlie had been staring at Miles as Burt spoke, Miles couldn't look away. Every time she heard more about what he'd done he could see a war inside of her, so far the trust behind that look she's always giving him had won every time… but that didn't mean it always would. If this kid was going to finally look at him the same way everyone else did, he wanted to see it happen. Coleman continued his story without another objection."And, dumber than a little piggy, I opened the door…. Apparently the big bad General, here, wanted _more_. His army had grown too large and he wanted _all_ my crops, and _all_ the weapons I had designed to protect my family. But winter was on its way and we needed what we had so I had to say 'no'." Coleman quickly continued, "And your uncle, here, didn't like it when people said 'no'." Charlie's eyes followed as Coleman pointed, with the tip of his gun, to a framed picture of a happy newlywed couple cradling a baby between them. "And so they huffed," the nozzle tapped against the glass of the frame, pointing at the smiling woman in the picture, "and they puffed", he pointed to a long, faded, scar running across the side of his face and neck that Charlie hadn't noticed until then, "and then they set everything on fire." He concluded ineloquently.

Charlie took a quiet moment to process the story, her gut feeling heavier than before when she'd only been nervous about the gun. She knew this would happen – she knew the former General of the Militia would make enemies out of good people, but….

Miles watched the war wage in her. He thought he wanted to see the moment she lost whatever amount of stupid faith she had in him, but he had had enough already. He broke the silence first, "I didn't want things to end up the way they did, Burt." Coleman looked to him flatly before Miles spoke again, "And Helen shouldn't have been involved. Strausser pulled the trigger against my orders." Miles still remembered that night clearly. The memory of it had helped him give up the Militia.

"I remember." Coleman replied solemnly, something in his expression had twitched when Miles had said what had been his wife's name. "I was there."

Miles spoke up again, motioning to Charlie as he did, "She's just a kid," he reasoned at Burt, though he saw Charlie look up at him when he said it. "She had nothing to do with what happened."

"It's gonna take more than a few words to earn my help, Matheson. At least not words from you." Burt turned back to Charlie who seemed more alert now, "Girl… apple of Former-General Matheson's eye… convince me that your personal dictator, here, is a changed man." Charlie was looking at Coleman, nothing for Miles to read about the victor of the war inside of her. He tried to convinced himself he didn't care what she thought of him now, but that didn't stop him from listening intently when Coleman asked, "Do you think that ticker of his has finally started beating for something besides power?"

Charlie swallowed before speaking, slowly and clearly, "He's been helping me get my brother back from General Monroe. He's helping us get into Philadelphia."

She still didn't look at him. Miles' frown deepened momentarily.

"How do you know he isn't just using you to get back into the Militia's fold." Coleman asked, glancing at Miles.

"He wouldn't." Charlie spoke up quickly. "That's not him anymore."

Something in Miles' chest dropped in a relief he tried to ignore, tried to forget. Another part of him wanted to say she was wrong – she didn't understand he was the same person, somewhere inside, but the relief was too strong to think like that right then.

"You trust him?" Coleman asked.

"Yes." Charlie answered.

"With your life?" He asked.

Charlie looked back to him, giving him that goddamn look again.

"Yes."

Miles looked back to her. If he'd been a smiling man, he knew he would have. Instead he cleared his throat, breaking eye contact before meeting it again.

Coleman stood up straight, his gun pointing at Miles again for a silent moment.

"… Well, damn it…. I don't know how you did it Matheson." He uncocked the gun with a defeated tone in his voice as he continued. "But even after all these years, and after everything you've taken from me, I still can't bring myself to kill a man who means something to someone." He was quick to add, though, "And I don't want to see the look on my son's face if he had to come home and clean up the mess."

Charlie let out a breath of relief at that, one of her honest smiles widening on her face as she looked to Miles. The kid could smile enough for the both of them and look better doing it, he thought to himself.

"Follow me." Coleman motioned to Miles tiredly.

It was only minutes later that they found themselves outside again, between the house and the gate. Coleman had changed from his twitchy and angry demeanor to one of solemn calmness. At first Charlie couldn't understand how anyone could forgive what Miles had done - anyone but her. Charlie could see now that Burt Coleman was just a tired man. A man, like most others, who had lost his wife many years ago and was just trying to protect himself and his son now. She'd learned from watching Miles as closely as she did that, with enough time and enough support, people change and anger fades.  
Miles had been afraid that he'd broken a good man, but something had actually kept him together, and kept him good enough to spare one of the few people he had means to hate. Miles motioned for Charlie to stay put by the gate, and she did, knowing better than to test whatever slim alliance they had made here, and also wary of any other booby traps lining the area.

Miles followed Coleman for a few paces in silence.

"If you're gonna try and win a fight against the Militia, you're gonna need a lot of back-up fire power." Coleman explained behind his back as he entered a rickety shed by the side of the house. "But, of course, _you'd_ know that." He emerged from the shed with a bundled sack filled with heavily wrapped, unstable, elements and supplies.

"This should be enough to make a dent in any army or fortress. And I packed a little extra just in case you see Strausser... He's the one man I would kill even if he had a whole damn family waiting for him with supper." He held out the sack of supplies for a moment, Miles reaching out to it, just before he hesitated. "… After all these years of hating you, I can't believe I'm doing this."

Miles said nothing. He could say nothing. He only nodded, respectfully.

Coleman looked at the supplies in his hands for a moment before he spoke quietly, "Every good man has something in his life he needs more than anything else - something to build his worth on." Coleman explained, his gaze lost in the distance just before looking over to Miles, his eyes suddenly as clear as a hawk's, "Something worth dying for."

Miles understood that, but it wasn't until Burt looked behind Miles at the girl waiting by the gate did Miles understand what Coleman meant when he added, "But, more importantly, something worth living for."

Miles glanced at Charlie silently.

"It's clear what you mean to her, and only a good man could mean that much to a kid like her," he explained. "I was ready to kill you until she saved you."

"Yeah, my savior." Miles breathed insincerely.

"She is." Burt agreed seriously as he offered the sack in his hand to him, "The Matheson I knew before was a man without real worth. Now that you have some don't lose it, not like I did." The same twitch that took over the man's expression at the mention of Helen came back. "Keep her safe."

Miles looked back at Charlie who was already watching him, "Easier said than done." The corner of his mouth lifted a little.

* * *

.

* * *

"Oh, thank God you made it! We were just trying to find a way in." Aaron greeted them as they ducked out the little metal door.

"Safe as houses." Miles was back to his aloof self; Charlie couldn't help but smile at how much he wanted to shrug off a situation that had obviously worried him. "And we got what we needed." He lifted the bag in the air. "You should be able to make some pipe bombs or something with some of it, but save the rest of it for something better."

"How'd you manage to not get shot _and_ get the supplies?" Nora asked with genuine curiosity, reaching for it and taking it carefully.

"We talked." He answered, already walking ahead of everyone.

"I have no idea how _you_ saved your own life by _talking_, but at least we can get out of here now." Aaron cracked as he took hold of his backpack straps as he usually did, determinedly walking at Miles' pace.

"So, we're really gonna get out of Philadelphia alive because of what you got from him?" Nora asked as she poked through the back.

Miles turned back to Charlie who was walking just behind him, she was already looking at him, "Yeah, I think we actually might…."

* * *

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**...**

Future chapters may recap the last two episodes, but with slight variances in the emotional commentaries for Miles and Charlie. After that it'll be strict fiction again!

Thank you for reading an all reviews welcome!


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